


Gifts from the Heart

by rosehallshadowsinger



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Christmas Fluff, F/M, Fluff, Romantic Fluff, Solstice, Winter Solstice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-15
Updated: 2018-12-15
Packaged: 2019-09-18 11:38:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16994292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosehallshadowsinger/pseuds/rosehallshadowsinger
Summary: High Lady and chief busybody Feyre fixes the Inner Circle's Solstice gift exchange so that Azriel and Elain get each other.





	Gifts from the Heart

“It’s a happy accident Elain and Azriel got each other in the secret gift exchange,” Rhys said as he slid off his black jacket. “Maybe this will be the chance for them to finally show the other how much they care.” 

He and Feyre had just returned from dinner at Sevenda’s with the Inner Circle. With just a month until Solstice, the conversation had turned to how they all had more than enough. So rather than getting gifts for the whole family, they’d decided each person would get a gift for someone else and make donations to causes around the city with what they would have spent.

Well, mostly everyone had been onboard with the idea — the tiny ancient firedrake nearly had smoke coming from her nostrils. As they’d drawn names over dessert, _Mother help whoever Mor received_ , Rhys had thought with an internal laugh.

“Yes, a very happy accident,” Feyre murmured with a pleased undertone, rubbing her expanding belly.

“ _Feyre_ ,” her husband said walking over to her, instantly knowing. “What did you do?” He unzipped her dress for her while she removed her earrings. 

“I may have fixed the name drawing … so that Az and Elain would get each other. Everyone else was in on it.”

“Hey! Why didn’t I know?” he asked incredulously with a raised eyebrow.

“You, my love,” she kicked off one heel, “are not great at keeping secrets.” She kicked off the other and wiggled her toes with a sigh. “But you can’t tell Az! I’ve already sworn Cass to secrecy. Nesta promised to personally punish him if he blabs, and I’m sure the same could be arranged for you.”

With the sight of Feyre in nothing but her underthings, Rhys wrapped his arms around his pregnant mate’s growing middle and dragged his teeth along her neck. “I’d much rather you punish me,” he purred.

She tipped her head back against his chest and laughed as he gave her a playful bite. She turned in his arms, locking her fingers behind his neck. “I’m sure that could be arranged.”

. . .

As Elain descended the stairs the night of Solstice, she admired the festive boughs of pine that adorned the doorways, banisters and mantles. This was the first holiday at Feyre and Rhys’s grand riverside estate, and it was as if the fragrant, wintry forests of the Steppes had been brought indoors.

Having expressly forbidden Feyre and Cassian from any decorating, yesterday Elain had invited Azriel over for a day of decking the halls. Her face flushed at the memory of him steadying her waist as she hung wreaths on the doors. Having resorted to only one playful fight launching pinecones at one another from behind sofas and armchairs, they’d toasted a job well done with mulled wine by the fire.

Waiting for the others to arrive in their finest, Elain stood in front of the same hearth that roared with a merry, crackling fire behind a golden grate adorned with the symbol of the Night Court: Ramiel with three stars alight atop its summit. While it was frigid outside, the home, despite its size, was cozy and warm.

She ran her hands down the front of her dress to smooth it. Elain had wanted to look as special as she hoped this night would be. She’d let Feyre and Mor take her shopping for a new outfit in the Night Court fashion. She felt she’d come so far in the past year — thanks in large part to a certain shadowsinger — and wanted to embrace her new life to the fullest.

Elain wore a pale blue, nearly gray gown of flowing chiffon that fell to the floor. Although she’d protested at first, the dress crisscrossed swaths of fabric from her shoulders, showing off her décolletage and a small triangle of her stomach at their insistence. Elain had let Cerridwen give her soft curls that fell down her back with a braided coronet atop her head. Nuala had woven in delicate cords of silver that caught the light just so.

“Hello, Ellie,” she heard a deep voice quietly say behind her.

She turned to find Azriel dressed in an immaculately tailored navy silk dinner jacket that complemented his dark golden-brown complexion. Having traded in his leathers and boots, he wore black pants and dress shoes. She felt her breath catch at how dapper he looked. How _handsome_.

He stood with his hands clasped behind his back, his wings slightly open and relaxed. When he would have given others a polite, reserved nod, he now wore a crooked grin she’d only ever seen him give her.

“What’s that smile for?” she asked, giving him one of her own and looping her arm in her best friend’s to walk with him to the dining room.

“I might be recalling my victory in this very room from our pinecone war,” he said with smug teasing.

A true laugh erupted from Elain. “Oh a victory? Is that what you call getting pummeled by a seer who’s mastered her gift to be two steps ahead of your tactics?”

“Okay, you _might_ be right,” he conceded good-naturedly. “What I now accurately recall as my crushing defeat wasn’t why I was smiling.”

Still giggling, she turned to face him as he pulled her hand to bring them to a stop. His face became sweetly shy as she stepped closer and looked up at him.

“I’m smiling because you seem truly happy, El,” he said, tucking a curl behind her pointed ear. “And you’ve never looked lovelier.”

Elain felt her heart soar at his words, knowing he’d been the source of that happiness. As she opened her mouth, Cassian, Nesta, Amren and Mor burst noisily through the front door in a bluster of coats, gifts and bottles of spirits. She blushed as the moment ended, wondering if their family sensed the intimacy between them.

Cassian unceremoniously dropped the parcels he was carrying just inside the door and helped Nesta out of her long wool cape. Spotting the pair, he broke into a huge grin and lifted Elain off the ground in a bear hug and slapped his brother on the back in greeting.

“We’re on time, and our High Lord and Lady aren’t here to greet us?” Amren seethed grumpily as she shrugged off her giant white fur coat.

Elain gave the diminutive female a tentative hug. “They’ll be down shortly,” she said, knowing Feyre was moving slower these days.

Cassian leaned in conspiratorially to Elain. “Oh, she’s just upset because Varian had to be in Adriata, so she won’t be getting her tree trimmed tonight,” he said with a laugh, dodging a swat from the Court’s Second.

Nesta rolled her eyes, pulled Elain in for a quick squeeze and shuffled Amren towards the dining room before another war started.

“You’re looking divine,” Mor said, winking at Elain, having helped her pick out the more-enticing-than-usual dress. The blonde extended her arm so they could walk together to the dining room, with Azriel and Cassian in tow. “I have a _very_ good feeling about tonight, my dear.”

. . .

After dinner, the Inner Circle gathered in the living room to open presents. Elain had wanted to freshen up and walked in to find everyone already seated. Amren was in a plush high-backed chair next to Mor across from where Rhys and Feyre sat. Cassian lounged in the middle of the huge, squashy sofa across from the fireplace with his arms slung around Nesta on one side and Azriel on the other.

Elain was about to pull in a chair from the next room, when she noticed Azriel shift over to make space for her. He silently nodded his head toward the seat in invitation. She tried not blush with pleased excitement as she nestled in beside him, reveling in being close enough to take in his cedar scent she’d come to love.

Cassian reached behind Azriel to give Elain a brotherly squeeze on her shoulder before standing to refill his drink. Everyone was talking and laughing, and she felt the most at peace that she’d felt in a long time. Talking to Rhys, Azriel crossed his ankle over his knee and put his arm on the back of the couch behind Elain. She thrilled at the closeness of the gesture.

Mor soon passed around a tray of champagne flutes and made sure everyone but their High Lady had one. After giving a birthday toast to Feyre — who lifted her glass of orange juice in thanks — Mor stood in front of the hearth to start the proceedings. “It’s officially time to start our new tradition of the Court of Dreams gift exchange!”

“Tradition?!” huffed Amren. “You mean we have to do this every year?”

Mor shot her a look but continued. “I’ll draw a name out of the bowl. Whoever’s name is called will receive their present from their secret gift giver. The first one up is,” she glanced at the slip of paper, “Cassian!”

Rhys stood and hauled over a huge box for Cassian to unwrap — which turned out to be a case of the “good bottles,” complete with custom-made _Little Rhysie_ brand wine labels to Cassian’s roaring delight. Elain chuckled and looked up to meet Azriel’s hazel eyes, which were shining with mirth. He placed his hand on her back, and she filled with warmth as his thumb affectionately stroked her spine while they shared the moment.

The night went on with howls of laughter. Cassian gifted Amren a black fur coat, shrugging as she tried on the fluffy jacket that overwhelmed her petite frame. “She already pulled off angry snowball, so I thought she might like angry lump of coal … which seems a hell of a lot more accurate.”

Elain took a turn reading a name from the bowl, calling out “Mor!” who gave an excited little dance. She tore the wrapping off her present from Feyre. The Court’s Third squealed as she held up a new pair of stylish maroon, fur-trimmed fighting leathers. “It seems like you might need them with all the time you’ve been spending in Winter,” Feyre said with a shrewd grin.

Up next was Rhys. Knowing he liked to try his hand in the kitchen on occasion, Amren gifted him a bespoke black apron with a border of gold filigree embroidery. It read “One hell of a High Lord” in script across the front. As the dark-haired female smirked, Feyre groaned and covered her face, laughing. “You told everyone about that?”

“You bet your ass I did,” Rhys said beaming, pulling his mate from the arm of the chair into his lap.

Elain handed Azriel the bowl so he’d read a name out loud. “It’s the birthday girl,” he said in his midnight voice.

Still sitting on Rhys’s lap, Feyre accepted a parcel from Nesta. She set it on her belly to unwrap, letting out a coo of surprise as she held up a set of tiny Illyrian leather booties and knitted wing-warmers. The High Lady rose to go sit beside her, resting her head on Nesta’s shoulder. Nesta simply caressed Feyre’s belly in answer.

Cassian leaned forward and plucked a name from the bowl. He looked to Elain, Azriel and Mor. “All right, which of you three had Nes?”

Mor gave a sheepish look and handed a lavishly packaged gift to Nesta. Elain hoped Feyre would find the inspiration to paint her older sister’s face as she unwrapped the box to find she was the unlucky recipient of lounge pants with “Sweetheart” bejeweled across the seat.

The room tensed, waiting for Nesta’s reaction — until Elain exploded with laughter, and everyone else followed suit. Including Nesta, who chuckled but _did_ mumble something about immortality not being long enough to ever wear the pants. “I, for one, like them,” Cassian drawled, pulling her in to kiss her temple, his shoulders still shaking.

Feyre cut in above the ruckus and drew the second-to-last name out of the bowl to exclaim, “Az!” Her gray eyes twinkled with an emotion Elain couldn’t read. “That must mean it’s from you, Elain.”

Elain tittered when everyone’s focus shifted to her. “I’ll be right back then,” she said, rushing off to the kitchen, her chiffon gown rustling.

She came back to the Inner Circle throwing puzzled looks amongst themselves. Elain carried a tray in her hands that held a fine porcelain dish, dessert plates and forks — enough for everyone. She placed it on the low-set table in the middle of the room and kneeled down to lift off the cover to begin serving. The room filled with a mouth-watering aroma of cinnamon, honey and roasted pistachios.

“Because it’s Azriel’s gift, he gets the first piece,” she said shyly, reaching up to hand him a small plate with a fork.

He froze and glanced at Rhys. Elain read the question in his eyes — she knew the implication of the tradition in Fae culture. But she refused to let the Cauldron keep her from making her own choices. So she straightened, meeting his gaze with a look that said, _Please. Let me do this for you._

Azriel's hand slightly shook as he accepted it. He lifted a flaky bite to his mouth and closed his eyes, a tender look spreading across his face.

“Is that … Az, is that what your mom used to make?” Rhys asked in a near whisper.

Azriel audibly swallowed and opened his eyes to look at Elain. She noticed they were lined with tears. “How?” was all he said.

Elain clasped her hands in her lap. “Nuala and Cerridwen helped me do some research in the Illyrian camps to figure out who might know the recipe for your mother’s _a’biqlawa_. From there, Feyre winnowed me a few times. It took a while to win them over, but eventually several kind females from Windhaven taught me the recipe. I’ve been trying to perfect it for weeks. I think I burned nearly half a dozen, but I’m hoping I finally got it right.”

The room seemed quietly stunned.

“It was really no trouble,” she said with small flourish of her hand. She ducked her head down and began cutting pieces for the others.

“Way better than embroidered towels,” Amren said matter-of-factly. Mor stuck out her tongue.

“I’m well aware that gift giving might not be my particular forte, but I can’t be perfect at everything,” she said with a teasingly haughty air.

“I’ll say,” Nesta muttered, accepting a plate from her sister.

“That means Elain is the last one,” Rhys said, darting a look to his mate. Azriel responded by setting down his empty dish and offering Elain a meticulously wrapped gift. She rose to sit on the edge of the coffee table, trying to hide her anticipation as she carefully removed the delicate paper.

_Oh._

_A book._

Her face fell, and she felt a rush of heat to her cheeks.

“Well, what _is_ it?” Feyre asked in a coaxing, sing-song manner.

Elain held up the tome so the group could see. _The Complete Illustrated Textbook of Plant Diseases._ She noticed Rhys and Cassian shoot each other uncomfortable looks. Feyre cleared her throat.

“Wow. That’s,” Elain swallowed, “really nice, Az — I love it, thank you.” She hoped the disappointment didn’t show on her face as she tried to offer a smile.

The rest of the family, seemingly ready to move on from the unclimactic gift, began chatting again loudly and all stood to pour another round of drinks for the revelry portion of their evening.

But knowing her better than anyone else, Azriel saw right through it. He gave her a meaningful glance and nearly imperceptibly tilted his chin toward the book. Elain cracked it open and found a note with his distinct scrawl.

_Meet me in the conservatory when everyone else has gone to bed._

She met his eyes and bit her lip, trying to hold back a smile so not to give away their secret. He gave another tiny nod of his head towards the note. She flipped it over.

_You didn’t really think this was you gift, did you?_

She looked up again to a small smirk on his face and tried not to laugh.

“What’s so funny, Ellie?” Cassian asked, plopping on the couch, his glass of _Little Rhysie’s_ good stuff nearly sloshing onto his mate.

Elain gently closed the book, tucking away the note from prying eyes. “Oh, nothing.”

. . .

Azriel noticed both he and Elain didn’t imbibe as much as the others as the night went on. So by the time everyone else was ready to stagger upstairs to bed, they were both still bright-eyed and awake.

“Are you coming, El?” Feyre asked, rubbing her belly with a yawn as Rhys put his arm around her. Amren and Mor ascended the stairs squabbling over who’d made out with the better gift, and Cassian had already slung Nesta over his shoulder and hauled her to their room.

“I might have one more cup of tea and enjoy the fire,” she said with a sweet smile. “You go on without me.”

Rhys threw Azriel a look and gave him a slight bow of his head. “Goodnight, then.”

Azriel slipped out of the room, down a long corridor towards the back of the house — and hoped Elain wouldn’t be far behind.

The conservatory was an impressively high-domed room, entirely made of glass panels so the space was bathed in moonlight. It was the perfect retreat for a Court of Dreamers to admire the stars.

Earlier that day, Azriel had moved the plush furniture so at the center of the room was a black grand piano. He now opened a cabinet where he’d tucked away several bowls of faelights. Using the power of his Siphons, he suspended them around the room, creating a night sky of his own that cast everything in a blue, wintry glow. He then went to the piano and pulled out the bench to wait, trying to calm his nerves.

Azriel heard the door open and then quietly click shut. He turned in time to see the wonder on Elain’s face as she beheld the twinkling faelights, reflected on the glass. The soft light made her gray gown radiate, the silver strands woven into her hair shimmering. He’d never seen a more perfect creature in all his centuries, and his heart ached at the beauty.

Elain brought her gaze back down to find Azriel at the piano. She walked over and slipped onto the bench beside him.

He took what he hoped would be a steadying breath and placed his hands on the keys. Azriel had realized they would be on full display as part of his gift, but Elain never made him feel lesser or piteous for them.

As if reading his thoughts, she slipped a graceful hand over his and gave a small squeeze. “Beautiful,” she murmured, before sliding her hand down to rest on his thigh, an assuring weight.

Meeting her caramel-colored eyes, he simply said, “Happy Solstice, Elain.” And began to play.

The song started as a haunting melody, the notes weaving into something melancholy. It gradually built, climbing to a growing tension, his fingers flying across the keys in a dizzying fury. Suddenly, the notes become sad and then nearly stopped. As the lonely notes rang out, a tear dropped onto the keys where Elain sat.

But a second melody started and slowly grew stronger. The song became joyful, each note soaring higher than the last. It then melted into something heartbreakingly lovely and ended on such a hopeful note that tears rolled down her cheeks.

When the last chord stilled, he could hear both their hearts beating. Without saying a word, they touched foreheads and basked in the peaceful quiet together.

Finally he whispered, “That was your song, Ellie. Your story.”

She looked up at him, her doe eyes lined with tears, and touched a hand to his face. “Az, I don’t know what to say but _thank you_. I’ve never been given a gift like that.”

He looked down shyly, not quite knowing what to say himself.

She lifted his face to look at her. “I also didn’t know you could play the piano like that,” she said, quirking her lips into an impressed smile.

He huffed a laugh. “Spymaster, remember? I secretly started playing when I was 12. You’d be surprised how much time I’ve had to practice over the last 500 years.”

She let out a soft chuckle, and Azriel continued.

“Rhys’s mother thought it might be good therapy for my hands, and she was right. But it’s … helped heal other parts of me, as well.” He shifted slightly in his seat, his wings rustling. “And I’m finding lately that I want you to know all my secrets, El.”

She rested her head against his shoulder and twined her fingers in his. “With that song, you’ve proven you know all of mine. I’ve never felt so laid bare but at the same time truly understood. You _see_ me, Azriel.

“When did you write this?” she asked so quietly he barely heard her question.

He took a long pause, considering his words. “It’s been in my head, slowly writing itself as I’ve gotten to know you. When I can’t sleep — which is often — I find myself sitting down to play, and this is the song that always comes to me.”

Shadows danced around the room as snow began to swirl outside.

“I … don’t expect you to feel the same way, but I’ve loved you for a while now, Ellie. I’ve been _in_ love with you.”

A small choked sound escaped her throat. He was terrified it meant she was scared to hurt him, worrying how to let him down easily.

But then the most miraculous thing in his long, lonely existence happened when she looked up at him and said, “I love you, too.”

He reached to cradle her face and kissed her. Elain clutched his shoulders to pull herself closer, her mouth opening to his. He didn’t know it was possible to feel this much love and joy and hope in a connection that had never held meaning before.

When they finally broke apart, they glanced up at the magic of the lights and the stars and the snow. He wrapped his arms around her, and she leaned into him. And as they’d done so many times before — one of the many reasons he loved Elain — they sat silently and savored the stillness of the moment.

After a time she looked up to kiss him again. “I’m happy this is the longest night of the year,” she whispered. “Because I never want it to end.”

**Author's Note:**

> The mention of the navy dinner jacket is a nod to the amazingly talented TheSecretAdmirer, who gave us the gorgeous mental image of Azriel in navy, glory be. 💙 If anyone hasn’t read her "For Better or For Worse," it’s an absolute favorite of mine! You will be #blessed. https://archiveofourown.org/works/14906750/chapters/34527317
> 
> I'm all about Az and Elain on Tumblr @rosehallshadowsinger — let's talk Elriel!


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